


shades of blue.

by falconeggs



Series: bright lights. [2]
Category: Schitt's Creek
Genre: Alternate Universe - Celebrity, Alternate Universe - Famous, Bad Rhyming (probably), Established Relationship, Fluff, Let Patrick Say Fuck 2020, M/M, heavy handed metaphors, music writing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-04
Updated: 2019-05-04
Packaged: 2020-02-23 18:22:50
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 12,226
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18707461
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/falconeggs/pseuds/falconeggs
Summary: Actor and Music Superstar, Patrick Brewer, releases his highly anticipated new album, Shades of Blue. (Alexis Rose teases that it’s a visual album.)





	1. creation

**Author's Note:**

> If you’re new here, read the first part first! If you did that, welcome back, I’m sorry I tricked you into being invested! So uh a songwriter I am not? Most of why this took so long to write is because of the songs. I’ve been sipping daily on my Loving Noah Juice and I just really wanted him to be proud of my bars (not that I want him to know about this). Anyway, this was barely proofed, so please forgive me my mistakes of grammar. If you wanna hang, I’m @focksii on tumblr. Enjoy!

“Yesterday evening, we were blessed with a rare honor here in our offices: the women of Rose Garden, Moira and Alexis Rose, came in and talked with us for a few minutes! The Roses shared a few details about this past season of their show, and some teasers for their upcoming season, which starts filming within the next few weeks, as well as telling a little about the life of the Rose family.

“If you’re the last to treat yourself to the treasure that is Rose Garden, we’ll give you a quick briefing. The Rose family’s reality show does naturally what scripted shows have been attempting to do for many years, and that’s show us a family who genuinely cares for each other, and grows into better people. Sure, their huge personalities can often allow the family to have momentary lapses in that part of their memory, but, at the end of the day, they can get through anything together.

“The two best dressed women in Hollywood came in their version of standard-fare wardrobe, which did not disappoint. The matriarch arrived in a black-on-black custom Dior pantsuit, constructed for her shape exactly, and a waist-length, Donatella-blonde wig. Her spike heels were, by exactly no stretch of the imagination, sharp enough to kill a man. Alexis was dressed a little more casually, in a blue and green minidress by Jean Paul Gaultier and jewelry anywhere she was able to fit it, including two necklaces, a headband that jangled every time her head moved, and no less than eight bracelets. To say they looked spectacular is an understatement. Only the Roses can make one feel underdressed in one’s own fashion-forward work environment.

“The ladies were happily candid about any and all topics brought up. We chatted for a long time about the moments they shared that touched all our hearts, and the moments they didn’t share that brought them closer as a family.

[...]

“Would you tell me, honestly, what you think of David’s new boyfriend, Patrick?

“MR: Well, to begin, I’d hardly call their relationship a recent development. I’d agree with David when he vociferates endlessly on the subject, the media’s disregard of their incredibly sweet coupling is blatant disrespect, and we Roses will simply not stand for it any longer. However, I don’t believe that was your question, was it? I think Patrick is an exceptional young man. Don’t you think so? [Alexis nods] He’s terribly kind, truly, which is a rare, odd bloom in the desert that is this industry. For someone as wildly talented as he is, he’s unbearably humble. I practically force his guitar in hand during family get-togethers for a rousing sing-along.

“AR: Only because David, like, hates being sung to in public, and Patrick always sings for David. But he puts up with it because Patrick is way more talented than you think. I don’t care how unbelievably talented you think he is, it’s probably more than that. He’s also one of, like, five really good people I’ve met. Like, honestly, I had no idea a person could actually be so nice. And he doesn’t make it seem weak, either, it really works for him, in like a super cute, puppy-dog kinda way.

“So you think he’s a good match for David?

“AR: Are you kidding? He’s, like, the perfect match for David. Patrick pushes David out of his comfort zone, which he desperately needs. He makes David so, so happy. Like, way happier than I remember ever seeing him.

“MR: He sees David for all that he is. He refuses to ignore the less savory parts of my son, and loves them just as much as the beautiful, exciting parts. I don’t think anyone’s loved David in that way. And, frankly, as I further pontificate on the matter, I don’t think David has ever loved in that way, either. It’s been an absolute thrill to have Patrick join our modest little brood, and to see him brighten our boy.”

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

-

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

“I thought you said you weren’t following her,” Patrick admonishes from his en suite bathroom, calling out to David, who’s changing into a worn pair of joggers and climbing into bed.

It’s late. He and David have only just gotten back from some fashion designer’s party he didn’t completely understand, but thoroughly enjoyed. David had been the one invited, as his keen eye for fashion had lead to more than one trend in the last six weeks alone. David is actually somebody in the world of fashion these days, even if he doesn’t design or model. Patrick was welcomed as David’s plus-one with open arms, because he always stirs the air and elevates the status of any event. He never would have expected a couture soirée to be as fun as it was, as he’s never even been invited to one before dating David. Now, Patrick’s no slob, but comparing his wardrobe to David’s is comparing a runty-looking Shetland pony, to a sleek, massive Clydesdale. David picked out his suit for him, luckily, some two-toned, black Versace ensemble that was tailored to make Patrick look even more cut. David had worn something far more bold and on-brand for him, an outfit Patrick wasn’t gutsy enough to try for himself, but one that was perfect for David.

The night is over now, with the hours shifting to those of the wee morning, the city finally settling into its quietest few moments. Their outfits are hanging up, and the champagne buzz has worn off. Now, it’s just them, in the safe haven of Patrick’s apartment.

It’s been a few weeks since David and Patrick took their relationship as public as they possibly could. Hashtag Davrick trended in the number one position for nearly two days, with the internet scrutinizing every single picture of them together and realizing. David’s been enjoying the trip down memory lane. The memes are good, and he’s being exposed to pictures of he and Patrick that he wasn’t aware existed.

The announcement of their relationship had caused a stir, to say the least. They’d pulled all kinds of reactions from all kinds of people. Most were supportive, with many words of encouragement, but there was a solid handful of people who scorned David for turning the great Patrick Brewer gay, which made them both roll their eyes every single time. Even the President had something nasty to say about David, which he actually took as a great compliment, as though hate from a hateful person was a double negative, cancelling itself out.

One person in particular, though, had very strong reactions, and was unafraid of airing them to the public. Rachel put her thoughts on her ex-fiancé’s new relationship all over social media, not at all seeming to care who who’s downwind as she airs their dirty laundry. David, who is fused to his phone, has seen nearly every tweet and post about him in general, so avoiding her frustrations was nearly impossible.

“I’m not,” David defends himself, very pointedly as he flops onto Patrick’s bed, dropping his phone to its resting place on the night stand. “Everyone keeps sending me screenshots of her rants.”

Patrick shuts off the lights to the bathroom and crosses the room to join David in bed. “I thought you were used to all the rants,” he teases, climbing into bed and leaning into David’s side.

“Yeah,” David scoffs. “Rants about me. Not you.” Patrick rolls his eyes and leans away. “I’m serious! Your public rating is sky high, whereas my relationship with the masses is more love/hate. People rant professionally about me and my family, I’m used to that. It’s my everyday. But people don’t rant about you, especially people you know. People like her.” David looks right into Patrick’s eyes, showing how seriously he feels for the subject. “She has no right to post such nasty things about you.”

“I broke her heart,” Patrick reasons. “I dropped all contact, and moved across the country, and then I started dating a man when she didn’t know I was interested in men. So, I think it’s pretty reasonable of her to say some harsh things about me.”

David raises his brows in disbelief. “Oh, really,” he deadpans, reaching blindly for his phone to his side. He unlocks it with his face, and pulls up the screenshots he’s been texted from more than one person. “ ‘Doesn’t it suck when you spend your adult life loving someone enough to be with them forever, and you find out it was all a lie?’ “ David glances up pointedly to Patrick. “ ‘It feels like someone stepped on my lungs. Seven years of my life, down the toilet.’ ‘I feel like such a tool, just used and thrown away.’ Oh, here’s the real winner: ‘It makes me sick to think I opened up so much. You think you know someone. I’m disgusted with myself.’ “ David locks his phone and tosses it aside. “Unacceptable.” David turns to look at Patrick, who has his eyes downcast. He reaches over to touch Patrick’s shoulder. “You don’t deserve that. She can talk shit about me all she wants, but not you.”

Patrick shakes his head and meets David’s eyes. “You don’t deserve that, either,” he insists. “All you’ve done is make me happy in ways no one else ever could.” He lets out a breath and shakes his head again. “No, I do deserve it. We were together for most of seven years. We were engaged. And I blindsided her. She deserves better than that.”

David rolls his eyes and leans into Patrick’s side, his arm wrapping around Patrick’s shoulders. “This shouldn’t be a surprise to her,” he tries to reason. “Should you have told her about us beforehand? Maybe, but I’m willing to forgive because there was a lot to think about in that time. You were with her for seven years, and she never picked up on your attraction to men. Not once, and it was one of the first things I learned about you. This is a complete shock to her, and that’s why she’s upset. Not because you love someone else, a man. But because she never knew the real you. Because the version of you that she loved was probably just made up in her head.” His eyes dart around the room as a new thought enters his field of vision. “Unless this is a homophobic thing, in which case, fuck her.”

Patrick lets out a soft, surprised laugh and leans into David. “It’s probably not a homophobic thing,” Patrick tells him. “But-. You might have a point.”

David suppresses a grin. “There are many sides to a single story,” he explains. “She’s telling hers. And you should tell yours.” Patrick raises his brows expectantly. “Some of the best music comes from people who are hurt. So, you know. Take a little, minor break from your Secret David Song and tell your side.”

“What is my side, exactly?” Patrick prompts, a brow arching as he shifts to face David a little more completely.

“Whatever you want it to be,” David says, gesticulating with his free hand. “That you’re hurt, too. That you didn’t end things with her because you had a big, gay secret, but because she wasn’t right for you. Or, maybe that she’s allowed to see you like you’re some kind of villain. That you’re happy now. That you’re dating the best person in the world.”

“Oh, am I?” Patrick teases, wrapping his arms around David to pull their bodies together.

David pulls a sweetly arrogant smile onto his face. He nods and leans in, so his nose brushes along Patrick’s. “Mhmm,” he confirms. “You’re a very lucky man.”

David sees the twinkle of a smile in Patrick’s eyes. “The luckiest,” he agrees, leaning in the rest of the way to capture David’s lips. He kisses David deeply, slowly pulling David on top of him. David lets out a giggle into Patrick’s lips, and Patrick smiles as he swallows it up.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

-

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

“In Pop Culture news, music superstar, Patrick Brewer is reportedly starting production on some new music. It’s been nearly three years since the release of his last album, the award-winning ‘Ocean Sides’. In his long break from music, a lot has happened in Brewer’s life, from the end of a huge relationship, to a cross-country move, to a major public coming-out, so we can expect to hear a whole different kind of sound from him. He was joined in the studio today by music producer, Mark Ronson, and David Rose.

“Rose, who is Brewer’s boyfriend, famous social media influencer and socialite, has been posting teasers on his Stories of Brewer’s new music for months now, with a few lines of previously unread lyrics, or the occasional set of bars from Patrick, to be erased in a few short hours. Everything thus far has shown a lot of promise.

“This morning, Rose posted a video to his story of Brewer in the recording studio, holding a sustained note for at least the entirety of the ten-second video. Rose zooms in and out on Brewer dramatically through the entire video. He adorned the clip with a dozen emojis, hyping up the day’s production. Rose followed the post in his Instagram story with a series or tweets, praising Brewer’s musicality.

“David Rose @davidrose: ‘it is such an honor to join @brewsky and @MarkRonson in the studio today. not that i’m doing actually being helpful or anything.’ “

“David Rose @davidrose: ‘lol mark just asked me for my opinion and i told him i hate music’ “

“David Rose @davidrose: ‘not to get sentimental on main but i can’t even fit into words how proud i am of patrick and his music and what he’s doing.’ “

“David Rose @davidrose: ‘don’t tell him though he can’t know i dont actually hate music.’ “

“David Rose @davidrose: this is what i imagine a spaceship’s cockpit looks like tbh [Attached: an artistic shot of the studio controls, backlit and glowing.]”

“David Rose @davidrose: (replying to STEVIE @yabudd) ‘i will not. i am not trying to owe this studio thousands of dollars in damages for playing with toys i’m not old enough to play with.’ “

“The album, reportedly still untitled, is set to be in production for at least a few more months. Brewer’s reps have said not to expect any new music to be released before the new year. There are a few insiders that says he’s recording eight tracks, where others report up to fifteen. There are some talks of a visual album, as teased by Rose’s sister, Alexis Rose, though no parties actually involved could confirm this rumor.”

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

-

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Just as David is shaking hands with his most recently commissioned artist, a sculptor who creates half-sized figurines that represent body dysmorphia, Patrick enters the gallery with a coffee in hand. Patrick holds the door open graciously for the artist, then goes to greet David. Upon realizing that Patrick has surprised him with a visit, David beams as he crosses the floor to meet Patrick. Patrick’s shoulders are sagging, and he looks more exhausted than David has ever seen him.

“Hey,” He says, happily, leaning in to press a soft kiss to Patrick’s lips. “What are you doing here? Not that I’m not happy to see you, I just thought you were caught up in the studio for the rest of the week?” Patrick hands David his coffee. “Thank you.”

“I am,” Patrick agrees with a nod. David raises his brows in expectant surprise. “I escaped.”

David fights a smirk. “Oh, so I’m harboring a fugitive,” he teases. “That’s fine, I guess. Why did you escape?”

Patrick lets out a sigh and sags into David’s side, just for a moment. “I needed a break,” he huffs softly, picking his head up to look at David. And it’s absolutely true, he did need a break. He’d been at the studio for nineteen hours, recording and re-recording, mixing and unmixing, over and over again, and he was deeply exhausted. David could see that in his eyes and posture and everything. “And I missed you.”

David rolls his eyes, sipping his coffee. “You just saw me two days ago,” He snarks, but he gets it. He’s missed Patrick, too.

“Practically a year,” Patrick jokes.

“We might be getting too clingy,” David says, wrapping an arm around Patrick’s shoulders to drag him a half-step closer.

“What makes you say that?” Patrick teases, winding his arms all the way around David’s waist, pressing a kiss to David’s neck oh-so softly. It sends a shiver down David’s spine.

“When are they expecting you back?” David asks, his voice low as he leans into Patrick’s touch.

“I told them I needed a cigarette and then walked eleven blocks to get here, I don’t know if that answers your question,” he tells David, muffled into the material of David’s sweater.

David snorts and pulls back to look over Patrick’s face. “You don’t even smoke cigarettes,” He comments, evenly.

“Yeah, but they don’t know that,” Patrick says, smirking up at David. “Well, they might now. Can I steal you for lunch?”

David nods and smiles brightly at the offer, happily accepting. David’s assistant, Julia, coughs loudly, but her eyes stay trained to her phone. She glances up at David only when she feels his glare in her direction, but is unfazed by the expressions of David Rose. “Okay, I have some stuff to take care of first, but yes, lunch sounds amazing,” he agrees. “Can you stick around for ten minutes?”

Patrick nods eagerly, pulling back to unwind one of his arms. He takes the Macchiato from David’s hand and takes a sip.

“Definitely too clingy,” David says, wide-eyed. David knows he’s made Patrick very aware of how he feels when it comes to sharing food. Then again, that had been months ago, and a lot had changed between them.

Patrick smirks and dislodges himself from David’s side, taking the cup of coffee with him. “You can have this back when you’re ready,” he says, pressing one last kiss to David’s cheek. He pats David fondly on the shoulder before taking a step back, then walking away.

David gives an indignant huff as he watches Patrick walk away, but he goes to get his work done as quickly as possible.

As Patrick meanders the halls of the gallery, he’s taken back to the first time he was here. He remembers the glittering night that changed the course of his life fondly. The art that lines the walls makes more sense to Patrick now than it did back then. He knows most of the artists, so he knows, straight from the horse’s mouth, what each work means. More importantly, he knows what David sees in them. Even if they hadn’t discussed every individual piece in the gallery, Patrick knows David. He knows him well enough to see what stands out in David’s mind.

David has a very keen sense of worth. His sharp eye and long reach makes overnight superstars of nobody artists all the time. When he opened, over a year ago, David was mostly putting in the best pieces of his friends’ work, because they’d dug their claws so deep into David. Truthfully, the good pieces were nice to look at, but lacked the depths David ached for in the art he surrounds himself with. They were good. Just good. Only slightly better than ‘okay’. And then Patrick came along and reminded David that he never settles for anything less than excellence. Patrick released the claws on David’s soul and helped him lick his wounds.

Patrick had no hand in selecting any of the newest pieces in David’s collection. He simply doesn’t have the keen eye for physical art the way David does. He’s not ashamed to admit that his talents lie elsewhere. No, the beautiful streaks of color that hang the walls and decorate the floor are all David, little bits of himself on display. Anyone else, even members of David’s own family, couldn’t pick up on the nuances of David in the art the way Patrick can.

It’s been a few months since Patrick has wandered the gallery. Usually, when he’s here, he’s a little distracted by a certain boyfriend. Now, there’s no wandering hands and snarky back-and-forth. He can look at the speckles of David on his own.

The newest art is brighter than the rest of the collection. He’s noticed reoccurring images of blooming flowers, and beams of light in the new arrivals. Patrick can’t help but smirk to himself in the increase of the color blue in his surrounding. The work is all so skillful and thoughtful. There’s precision in every brush stroke, indentation, and movement. 

David found the excellence he deserved. Staring at the collection, Patrick gets caught up in his own art. Did any of these artists spend nineteen hours on a square inch of their paintings, on one finger on the hand of a statue, the way Patrick had spent his hours on one chorus of his album? He imagines not. This was not excellence. His exhaustion scratches at Patrick’s mind, poking at insecurities he hadn’t realized were inside him.

David deserves excellence. He demands it in every aspect of his life, he expects it, even. In this moment, Patrick realizes he might not live up to that expectation. He’s a recognizable face, and he knows how beloved he is, but is he excellent? He can’t even finish a chorus after nineteen excruciating hours. That hardly seems excellent to him.David surrounds himself with the most profound, enlightened artists, and Patrick can’t even find the words to write a song for the love of his life.

Just as Patrick’s thoughts approach the storminess of the seas within the painting before him, he’s distracted by familiar hands on his waist. 

“Hey,” David interrupts Patrick’s train of thought. “You okay? You look like me on the inside at fashion week.”

Patrick tries to shake the emotion out, and he mostly succeeds. He passes the coffee over to David with a wary smile. “Yeah, I’m okay,” he says, and it’s mostly true. “I’m just exhausted. I feel like everything is getting to me.”

David considers Patrick for a moment, examining the dark circles under his eyes and the way he sags into David’s side. “Okay,” he decides, bringing a hand up to stroke the back of Patrick’s head. “We’re skipping lunch. You need to go home and rest.”

Patrick shakes his head quickly. “No, it’s okay,” he promises. “I want to go to lunch with you, I won’t fall asleep.”

“Patrick, you’re dead on your feet,” David complains. “You’re absolutely gonna fall asleep, I can already see it happening. I love you, but you’re no good to me without your sparkling conversation. We can go back to my place, you sleep for a couple of hours, and then we can talk about what’s actually bothering you.”

Admittedly, that plan sounds much better than being subjected to the public in Patrick’s extreme state of fatigue. “Can we still get lunch?” Patrick asks, softly, almost innocently.

It makes David smile so warmly at him. He nods to Patrick, wrapping an arm over his shoulder. “Obviously,” he promises, already thinking about the options for ordering in. “Can you walk?”

Patrick considers this. He just walked all those blocks to get here, he thinks he can manage the four extra to get to David’s apartment. “I think so,” he says, bobbing his head.

“Great,” David says, twisting his mouth to one side to repress his grin. “Please don’t make me piggyback you. I’ll do it, but I’ll complain the entire time.”

Patrick lets out a laugh and pulls David in for a hug. He sneaks a kiss to the side of David’s neck, pulling the hiding smile right out of David.

Less than fifteen minutes later, they’re back at David’s apartment building. Patrick is already face down and half asleep in David’s bed. David sighs to himself, calling Patrick’s assistant as he pulls Patrick’s shoes off, his phone tucked between his shoulder and ear. Patrick’s feet may be dangling off the edge of the bed safely for now, but David is not interested in those shoes accidentally getting on his comforter.

“Incorrect,” he mumbles, and Patrick smirks without peeking an eye open. As he waits for Patrick’s assistant to answer, David carries Patrick’s shoes out of the bedroom without complaint, happy to spend a few minutes taking care of Patrick.

“Sophia!” David greets once she’s answered her phone. “Hi, it’s David. Yeah, I have him, we’re at my place. Well, it’ll be a while, he’s asleep. He walked to my gallery and practically passed out the second he walked through the door. -Nineteen hours?! What-? Okay. Uh. Okay, what would Patrick do...? Just-. Tell everyone to take today. Reconvene bright and early tomorrow, 10 o’clock. Yes, it is! God, you sound just like him. That is uncivilized. And, um-. Tell everyone that Patrick is really sorry, but I had a dire emergency and desperately needed his assistance. Thank you, Sophia. You’re the best, I owe you for this. No, I really do. Ciao.”

David reenters his bedroom and climbs in beside Patrick, careful not to disturb him. He scrolls through his phone to try and decide what to eat.

“You didn’t have to do that,” Patrick says, his voice thick and slow with sleep, muffled into the comforter.

“Yes, I did,” David disagrees, lightly. He reaches over and pats his boyfriend on the head, gently. “What do you want for lunch?”

“Your turn to pick,” Patrick informs, eloquently, shifting slightly to be closer to David. All David can do is smile down at him and rub his back gently, hoping he gets a little rest.

David doesn’t want to disturb Patrick too much. When his breathing starts to even out, David removes his hand from Patrick’s body, and dives into the infinite options for lunch. He settles on a place they’ve been to a few times, and orders for both of them easily, asking, and not at all demanding, that his own assistant go pick up their food for him.

After that, David is patient. He scrolls through social media, pleased that no one seems to have caught wind of Patrick leaving his recording session just yet. He also takes a picture of Patrick, because he looks so soft and sweet, but he doesn’t post it anywhere, keeping it for himself. He sends out a few emails, and texts Alexis about something she wants to do for the next season of their show. All in all, Patrick’s naptime is very productive for David.

When he hears Julia, his assistant, let herself into his apartment, David carefully gets out of bed, still not wanting to disturb Patrick. He spares a final glance to his sleeping boyfriend, smiling slightly to himself, before exiting his bedroom and closing the door softly.

“You’re in an odd state of dress for a dude who just snuck off to hook up with his boyfriend in the middle of the day,” Julia comments, her smokey voice extra-dry as it carries through his open-plan apartment.

David rolls his eyes. “We didn’t come back here to hook up,” he complains, coming to lean against the island in his kitchen across from her. “He needed to rest.”

“Yeah, I heard that they’ve been in the studio since last night,” Julia comments, unpacking David and Patrick’s food for them.

“How’d you hear that?” David asks, his arms folding over his chest and his brow furrowing.

Julia rolls her eyes at him. “Sophia texted me,” she explains. It doesn’t actually explain anything to David. He wasn’t aware that Sophia and Julia communicated regularly. “You see, I’m at this weird place in my professional career where your boyfriend’s sleeping patterns affect my day-to-day? Which, if you told me two years ago that this would be the case, I would have laughed in your face, but I don’t actually mind it. Even if you made me go all the way to fucking Chinatown for your soup dumplings.”

“They’re actually for Patrick,” David interrupts. “I’ve been trying to cut back on my pork products. But thank you for going to fucking Chinatown for me.”

Julia’s brows raise, just a hair. She’s not nearly as expressive as David; she’s much closer to the facial range of Stevie. But David’s known her for a long time, he can read her face just as well as she can read his. “That’s exactly my point,” she says, a stiletto nail waving in the direction of David’s face.

“What is?” He asks, defensively.

“That. You telling me thank you for doing my job,” she accuses, her eyes narrowing. “Two years ago, you never would have told me thank you for trekking across the city for you. You’re just not as unbearable to work for these days.”

David huffs, but he knows that this is her version of a compliment. “Don’t go soft on me now,” He snarks, shaking his head.

“Yeah, well,” she snarks right back. “Being in your love nest is melting my tough exterior.”

“Oh, then you should leave,” he says with a nod, very seriously. “Like, get the fuck out, promptly.”

Julia smirks, but goes for the door. “Bye, David,” she coos, opening the door. “Don’t forget to call Olivier, okay? I will literally kill you in your sleep if you don’t.”

Before he can even make a snappy retort, his door is already closed and he’s left alone in his kitchen. He sighs softly to himself, but crosses his large apartment to go back to the bedroom. As he enters, Patrick stirs for the first time since crashing.

“Hey,” David greets, softly, a smile forming on his face at the sight of Patrick, slightly confused and rumpled with sleep. “Our lunch is here.”

Patrick blinks himself awake as he slowly sits up, smiling up at David. “Thanks,” He says, voice caked with sleep. He slides himself to the end of David’s massive, plushy bed, and waves his hand at David, who is able to get the hint. He slots himself between Patrick’s legs and puts his hands on Patrick’s shoulders. “How long was I out?”

“Like, an hour and a half,” David rounds down, knowing Patrick won’t be pleased about how long he’s been away from his work. He can already see the worry line between Patrick’s brows threatening to form. He reaches up and brushes it off of Patrick’s face. “You can continue stressing after you eat, okay?”

Patrick lets out a soft laugh, leaning into David’s touch. “Yeah, okay,” he agrees. He leans his head foreword, so he can bury his nose in David’s sweater. He takes a breath, drawing in the remnants of David’s cologne, before pulling back and looking up at his boyfriend. David rolls his eyes affectionately, taking Patrick by the hand and hoisting him up.

David guides Patrick to the couch in the main room, very helpfully, then goes to gather their food from the kitchen. He’s quick to plop down beside Patrick, handing him his takeout boxes. Patrick, who is still a little slow to wake, smiles brightly at David.

“So,” David prompts, knowing just where he wants to start. “Nineteen hours?”

Patrick’s smile falters as he sucks in a breath. “I thought you said I was allowed to wait until after I was done eating to stress?” Patrick comments, rubbing his hand over his eyes.

“Sorry, sorry,” David apologizes, quickly, handing Patrick a set of chopsticks. “I’m not good with promises, you should know this by now. But I’m very good at stress eating, so.” David gestures between Patrick’s box and his mouth with his own set of chopsticks.

Patrick cuts off a chuckle by shoving some food into his mouth. He didn’t even realize how hungry he was until his exhaustion had chipped away slightly. “So,” He says, half-garbled behind his mouthful. “I spent nineteen hours in the studio yesterday and got precisely dick.”

David brows knit together. “I’ve watched you write entire songs in twenty minutes,” David comments, very seriously, reaching over to brush at the hair on Patrick’s crown. “Okay? You make up harmonies in your sleep. Nineteen hours and nothing to show for it doesn’t sound like you.” Patrick frowns into his food and doesn’t say anything. “Patrick? What’s up?”

“I-.” Patrick cuts himself off, trying to find his words. David is not one for patience, but Patrick is an exception to most of his rules. He can wait for whatever Patrick has to say. Patrick is thankful for the moment he gets to try and collect his thoughts. “You’re surrounded by great art all the time, David. You see it from a mile away, where no one else can. You’re basically the world’s leading connoisseur of artistic expression, even if no one else wants to admit it. And my music isn’t-. It’s not-.” David waits, unable to fathom how Patrick would finish that sentence. “It’s not right. It should be, because this is the first time when everything else is right, and the music has always been right. But it’s really, really not. Not even close. It’s definitely not up to the standard of excellence that’s required for your stamp of approval.”

David huffs softly and pulls himself closer to Patrick on the couch. “You already have my stamp of approval,” David says, his voice soft and as reassuring as he can possibly force it into being. He means it with everything in him, he supports Patrick unconditionally.

“I don’t want it because I’m your boyfriend, I want it because you believe in my work,” Patrick complains. Self-deprecation is not a good look on Patrick. None of this is. David makes a mental note to never allow this to happen to Patrick again. 

“I do!” David promises, wrapping his arm around Patrick’s shoulders and pulling him closer. “Of course I believe in your work. You don’t have my stamp of approval because you’re my boyfriend, you have it because the music you make doesn’t make me want to compulsively pull out my eyelashes like most pop stars’ music does. Okay? Because I watch you write songs, and I listen to you play, and I know you’re the most talented person I’ve ever met, point blank, period.”

“Well, everything I recorded over the last nineteen hours would leave you lash-less,” Patrick informs, firmly. “You would absolutely fucking hate it.”

David rolls his eyes. “I doubt that,” he disagrees, because he even loves the stupid little songs Patrick makes up when he feels like bugging David.

“No, really,” Patrick insists. “It’s overproduced, gray garbage water.” David wrinkles his nose at the image. “It’s not-.” He can’t find the words. That seems to be his ongoing problem.

“You?” David finishes for him. 

Patrick sighs and nods, endlessly pleased that David knows what he means. “Yeah,” he says.

David contemplates this for a while. “So scrap it,” he suggests, shrugging, like it’s nothing.

“Scrap what?” Patrick asks. “The song?”

David shrugs again. “The song,” he says. “The production. The whole album. Scrap whatever isn’t making you happy and start again.”

Patrick gapes at David. 

“What?” David draws out, his eyes widening at Patrick’s expression. He inches back. It’s not exactly the reaction he expected.

“Just-. Scrap it,” Patrick repeats. “Scrap the whole thing, that’s your suggestion?”

David’s shoulders tense defensively. “Sorry, I don’t know this stuff like you do,” he says, harshly, not actually sorry at all. “I just know you’re not on a time limit, like a lot of musicians are, and they’re the ones who churn out hot, gray garbage water with the occasional banger thrown in. So, I’m just saying, you can take your time and start over. If you wanted to. Sorry if that’s not a good enough suggestion.”

Patrick takes a breath and considers it for a second. “No, it’s a great suggestion,” he sighs. “None of it is working. Maybe you’re right. Maybe I should scrap it all.” His eyes dart around the room nervously, weighing all of his options, and realizing that this might be the most manageable.

David purses his lips. There’s a part of him that knows he shouldn’t have suggested something so huge when Patrick is so fatigued. It’s a lot to think about, and he can see that Patrick is not in the right headspace to think about it all. He rubs the space between Patrick’s shoulder blades. “That’s a decision to be made after you’ve finished your food and actually slept an acceptable amount,” David encourages. “And, you know, to be discussed with people who actually like music? I’m not really a good authority on this sort of artistic expression.”

Patrick nods, and smiles a little. David loves that soft, fond smile he gets with David. The first time he’d seen it was in a movie, eons ago, where a young Patrick Brewer was playing a handsome romantic lead in an iconic blockbuster hit. His stoic character cracked small smiles in the direction of his romantic interest a handful of times throughout the film, and it drove the audiences wild. It’s the role that cemented Patrick in his heartthrob status at just twenty. He’s pulled our those soft, romantic eyes for more than a few films over the years of his career.

The expression in the movies is absolutely nothing compared to the real thing, when it’s directed right at David. The real thing is so much better. It melts David completely every single time he has the honor of witnessing it. He loves it, because it’s real, it’s Patrick, and not some role he’s playing in a movie. It’s more open and honest than any camera could capture. David loves that he can witness it even in the smallest of moments, ones that wouldn’t make the final cut of the movie of his life.

David smiles to himself. He wants to do anything he can to be worthy of that look on Patrick’s face. He decides to start by pressing a soft kiss to Patrick’s hair, then another for good measure.

“Nineteen hours,” David scoffs, softly, as he slowly pulls away. He grabs his takeout box from the coffee table. “We’re so not doing that shit again. I cannot be the stable one in this relationship. That’s not how this dynamic works.”

Patrick smirks, his mouth full of his lunch, glancing over at David beside him. “Yes, dear,” he teases, muffled behind a mouthful. David makes a disgusted face at him, which only makes Patrick grin wider at him.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

-

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

“Music and Hollywood Legend, Patrick Brewer, released his first promo for his highly anticipated upcoming album! After halting production on the album eight months ago, Brewer and his partner, David Rose, have been keeping details about the project close to the chest. With the release date approaching quickly, and lots of questions being asked about what to expect, we’ve decided to set you up with a trusty guide. I’m May Washko, you’re watching Holly Would, and this is everything we know so far about Patrick Brewer’s new album.”

The logo and theme song of the Celebrity Gossip channel on YouTube sprawls across the screen, taking up eight seconds. After the jingle ends, the 27 second promo Patrick released just hours before plays. It’s comprised of short, animated clips, some more cartoonish and artistic, but some so hyper realistic, most viewers don’t catch that it’s not a filmed image. Shots of birds in flight, and great storms, and a great, vicious cat on the prowl flash, tangled with wide shots of a beach and a mountain. The clips are set to an instrumental backing to the single he’s selected. The clips fade out, and into the words ‘SHADES OF BLUE’, supplemented below by the very helpful time stamp ‘SOON’.

The video cuts back to May, standing in front of her green screened background. “This morning, Patrick Brewer released that clip on all of his social media platforms. It was reposted almost instantly by just about everyone, from his record label, to music streaming platforms, and many, many celebrity friends, all hyping up the upcoming release. This is the first official announcement about the album from the artist since he halted production eight months ago. Because the project has been as anticipated as it’s been private, there are a lot of rumors floating around about what happened. We’re here to give you the best information possible. What you’ll hear from this video is exclusively what we’ve heard directly from Brewer, Rose, and Brewer’s reps.

“Near the very beginning of production, Brewer says he was feeling some ‘artistic block’, and scrapped what little he had for he project, starting over completely. He ended his contracts with the producers of the album, his reps saying he was ‘going in a new creative direction’. There were a few rumors floating that there was going to be legal issues, but no lawsuits have been filed, and reps from all sides say that it was an amicable split. Some reports go so far as to say that Patrick rewrote and even scrapped entire songs from the track list, though neither he nor Rose have confirmed anything in regard to the album itself.

“After halting production, Brewer took a break for at least three weeks. He and Rose went on a romantic getaway in the South of France, which was reported to have been filmed for the upcoming season of Rose Garden. When they came back from their vacation, Brewer got right back to work. His reps said, ‘He has a whole new creative energy, and is working tirelessly to share it with the public.’

“While Brewer tends to be tight-lipped about any kind of details about their shared life together, Rose is consistently less so. When asked about Brewer’s break from production, Rose candidly said, ‘We’ve been doing a lot of listening lately, a lot of observing, just trying to get a few new ideas. Mostly, it’s just been a time for us to sit back, and take a breath... It’s been a really good break for him, for both of us, actually. Very therapeutic. It’s been nonstop work for both of us for so long, it’s been nice to just let it all go for a little while. He desperately needed it...”

The video cuts to a clip of David at one of many red carpet events he’s attended. He’s dressed in a stunning black suit with a shimmering, barely noticeable, black pattern overlaying the jacket. It’s a more understated look for David, but he still looks better than almost anyone else there.

“I think the production was stifling his creative process,” David articulates in the clip, his hands emphasizing his words. “Patrick is very dedicated to making the very best artwork he can, I think it’s very admirable. He’s taking some time to readjust a few things, but I know he’s looking forward to sharing all of his hard work.”

“Would you say Patrick is work-focused?” An interviewer asks.

David looks like he’s fighting a smirk, his mouth twisting to the side, just barely. “I would say that he’s very dedicated to what matters most to him,” he says. “This album is a priority for both of us. I want to see him succeed, and I will continue to do everything I possibly can to support him.”

The clip ends, and the video returns to May. “From what little we know for sure, we can tell that Brewer reached out to quite the handful of indie artists to assist in production. Brewer’s production team has hired all sorts of musical acts to advise, from well known, but unsigned artists, to eclectic nobodies on the edge of fame for influencing Patrick Brewer’s work. Rose has described the process as ‘experimental’ and ‘exploratory’, so we can anticipate a different sound from his previous releases, as well as what everyone else is releasing.

“While it’s unconfirmed by both Brewer and Rose, Alexis Rose, David’s sister, has hinted more than once at Brewer producing a visual album. She’s commented on the pair reaching out to artistic acquaintances of David’s to collaborate, though she hasn’t said how they would be collaborating. Both Brewer and Rose have been spotted with various artists in the animation field on more than one occasion, which would support this theory. However, Miss Rose is known for misdirecting the media, as she often does for their family’s reality show.

“No details have been released as to when ‘soon’ is, though we think we can expect a release sometime within the next six months. As soon as there’s more details on the album, we’ll be the first to let you know. Until then, I’m May Washko, and you’ve been watching Holly Would.”

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

-

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

The final notes of the album linger in the air as the screen fades to black. There’s an extended moment of silence between Patrick and David. Slowly, Patrick reaches over and closes the laptop before turning his attention to his boyfriend. David has an unreadable expression on his face, which is very much unlike him.

“What did you think?” Patrick prompts, his voice tenderly soft to break the silence.

David blinks a few times, then turns that unreadable expression to Patrick. “What did I think?” He asks, incredulously, like the question makes exactly no sense.

“Yeah, did you like it?” Patrick asks, almost timidly. David has never seen his sure-footed Patrick so tentative.

David nearly balks at Patrick. “Did I like it?” He parrots, his eyes widening in surprise. He turns completely to face Patrick, reaching out to him. His body can’t contain his emotions, he needs to express to Patrick what this all means for him. His hands find Patrick’s shoulders, then graze upwards to grasp his cheeks. “Patrick, it’s genius. You’re a genius! This is incredible. This is-. So much better than I thought it would be, and my expectations were very high.”

Patrick starts to smile slowly at David, like he wasn’t expecting David to react so positively. “Really?” He asks, taking a steadying breath. 

“Yes, Patrick,” David insists, brightly. “Honestly. This is outstanding work, you should be so proud of yourself.”

Patrick’s smile widens, brightening up the room. It makes David’s heart flutter. “Oh, I am,” Patrick says, assuredly, nodding his head. He leans into David’s space further, his hands finding David’s sides. “This is the best thing I’ve ever made. I’m extremely proud of myself. I just want to be sure that it’s up to your exceptionally high standards.” He’s mostly teasing, but a part of him wonders if he could ever be enough for David.

David grins right back at Patrick, nodding in agreement as he leans in to press a kiss to Patrick’s lips. “It goes above and beyond,” he promises against Patrick’s lips. “I especially love the second half.”

Patrick chuckles and pinches David’s side lightly. “I bet you do,” he teases. David laughs and tries to squirm away, but nothing could make Patrick let go of David right now. Patrick kisses the corner of David’s beaming smile, then the stubble on his chin.

David is quick to redirect their smiles into a soft kiss. He slowly pulls back, just a hair, to look over Patrick’s face. Good God, he adores this man in his arms. His love simmers in his chest, a gentle, rolling boil that leaves David always warmer and softer than he’s ever been. This impossible feeling within him is still taking some getting used to, as there was a time in David’s semi-recent history that he didn’t know the feeling could possibly manifest within him. Patrick unlocked a final secret in David, one he didn’t even know was there. He hopes, secretly, that he never gets used to it, that every time it bubbles to the surface, David never loses this fresh, giddy feeling.

“I especially love the second half, too,” Patrick agrees, pulling his eyes from David’s lips to meet David’s own eyes. “It’s my favorite part.”

David can’t fight his smirk, his chin tilting slightly upwards, feeling a little cocky. “Well, it’s by far the best part,” he teases, arrogantly. “Definitely the most beautiful and artistic part. Probably the best half of a visual album ever created.”

Patrick rolls his eyes, but he’s still smiling as he rewards David with a kiss for his praise. “Thank you,” he murmurs, brushing his nose against David’s softly.

David’s brow furrows slightly, only half-dazed from the sweet, searing kiss that was just lain upon him. “For what?” He asks, shaking his head slightly. He revels in the feeling of their noses brushing, just barely, as his head moves.

“You’re the muse of a lifetime,” Patrick beams. “None of this would have happened if it weren’t for you. So, thank you, David. It doesn’t begin to cover how thankful I am, but it’s at least somewhere to start. Thank you.”

David bites his lip to keep the face-splittingly large grin off of his face. “I do what I can,” He says, flippantly, deflecting the praise. 

He knows Patrick means it. He knows that this work, this masterpiece that the greatest artist ever known has created, was inspired by him. He knows how much this means to Patrick, how much he means to Patrick. Sometimes, David is so overwhelmed by Patrick’s love, and can’t imagine what he’s done to deserve it. When Patrick writes beautiful lyrics about David, like ‘Sometimes I wonder if I made you up // A last ditch effort to fill the happy cup // One last wild dream before I self-destruct // But someone like you can’tbe constructed,’ he can’t help but wonder how he could ever be worthy of it all. Frankly, David is far too selfish to let Patrick go find someone who actually could be, so he’s resigned to becoming that person, emotionally speaking.

Patrick never hides his smiles, and David gets to warm himself by Patrick’s glow. “You do more than you know,” he promises, his voice a campfire.

It makes David’s heart swell, to know that Patrick already sees him as someone so worthy of such adoration. He couldn’t possibly find the words to express how honored he is by Patrick’s work, his love, by everything that Patrick is. He knows, as he’s basking in this light Patrick radiates, that he’s going to do everything, for the rest of his life, to make sure Patrick knows how much everything means to David.

He starts by pulling Patrick in for a soft, sweet kiss.

 

 

 

 

 

 


	2. expression

TRACK ONE : BRIGHT LIGHTS

On the screen is a very cartoon-y animation of a great, spotted cat, cast in shades of blues and grays. He stalks to the building beat of the first song on ‘Shades of Blue’ alongside a glass wall. He’s a wild animal, his ferocity simmering just under his hide, but he’s in an enclosure, as domesticated as such a big animal could ever be. He’s tense, muscles tightening with anticipation as he paces around his glass cage.

His eyes scan over the crowd behind the viewing glass. The featureless humans are cast in yellows and oranges, except one man in the back. His skin is a steel gray, and his shirt is a bright cobalt, standing out from the crowd around him. The warm crowd has a million cameras pointed at the beast, snapping pictures, the bright flash blinding his sensitive eyes in time with the music. The cat keeps his eyes trained on the blue man, though, even with the lights.

When the lyrics begin, the animated man in blue mouths along, lips barely moving, like he’s speaking to himself.

“How does he feel?” Patrick asks in song. “Faces pressed against the glass // How does he take in delighted eyes and little gasps? // How does he know what’s real?”

The blue cat goes back to pacing, breaking his gaze from the man, stalking into the shrouded habitat he’s enclosed in.

“None of this is real,” the trees spell out as Patrick sings the standalone lyric.

The lights flash around the man in blue, and he flinches under the shine. The cameras are pointed at him now, and he’s suddenly on the other side of the glass, pacing the same way his great feline counterpart had. He’s on display without asking, a novelty for the world to marvel at.

“The flashing, flashing has his eyes pained // The click, click, clicking drove him insane,” the chorus rings out. “There is no escape from his tireless campaign // Beaten down ‘til only the bright lights remain.”

The blue man paces the enclosure, the flashing getting brighter as the music builds. He tests the fences, and runs for the viewing glass, but nothing budges. He’s trapped in this.

“He doesn’t remember standing in the rain // A cub taken too young and taught to entertain // He’s finally learning he’s too big for his cage // That the bright lights don’t have to be his domain.”

A little door at the side of the enclosure opens, and a dusty-purple hand reaches through. The blue man runs across the enclosure, takes the hand, and is pulled through the door.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

TRACK TWO : NEVER YOU

The animation shifts with the music. It’s more realistic than the last, with the human faces far more detailed.

The blue man runs downward through the woods. A few steps behind him is the woman in hues of purple and pink, the hand that saved him before belongs to her. She can barely keep up with his pace. He doesn’t even turn back to look at her, to see if she can keep up.

The terrain gets steeper as the slow introduction of the music builds. They slip every few steps, but she always holds him steady.

“We were on that slope, us // That downward slide, grasp a tattered rope // Twinkles in your eyes made me hold out hope // That, someday, you’d write my magnum opus.”

The path is too steep, and he slips, sliding down. She catches him, her hands clasped tightly around one of his. She promises she’ll save him, but he doesn’t want her to. He wants to get away. He stares into her eyes as he allows himself to slip from her grasp and tumbles away. She scrapples after him, but she can’t reach.

“It wasnt you. // I’m the one who split us in two. // But this ain’t new, my life in blue, // And you could never catch that view. // So it was never you. // It was never you.”

The fall gets steeper and steeper until he’s soaring through the air, off a cliff, and crashing into the water below. The water splashes around him, swallowing him up. As he goes under, the animation shifts again.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

TRACK THREE : OUT TO SEA

The blue man blinks his eyes open under water. He looks around at the scene around him. It’s bright and colorful, with schools of fish paying him no mind, dancing in perfect synchronicity in and out of the seaweed to the music playing behind them. He swims with them, exploring his new surroundings in awe. The currents of the water push him around, but he’s happy to be guided through, for now.

“Lost out in the great, vast open // There’s a spark inside that holds out hopin’ // That these violent waves have finally broken // And can wash me somewhere I can cope and // Teach me how to breathe.”

The current is too strong, and his body gets tired quickly. He’s not some mythic man, he needs to breathe sometime. He floats to the surface, bursting through the tension that keeps the sea and the sky separate.

He gulps in air, but there’s a storm crashing down. He looks around, but there’s no shoreline in sight, only dark water and pelting rain. As he thinks he’s catching his breath, a wave breaks beside him and crashes into him. He’s forced under the water, and it’s not the bright, vibrant place it was.

He can’t fight the storm or the sea. He’s not strong enough, he hasn’t the power or energy to command it. It commands him, instead, forcing him under and thrusting him back up again.

“Freedom made my arms weary // All that paddling through vast and dreary // With no places to rest and nothing to fear me // The ocean’s sides can’t hold me dearly // I’ll find the shore of the sea.”

He floats. He flinches with every flash of lightning, like the camera flashes in his enclosure. But the ocean carries him, passing him over massive waves to get him to the other side.

As the music changes, the scene fades to black.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

TRACK FOUR : CAVERNS

The man in blue is hyper realistic this time, there’s no denying the obvious comparison to the man who narrates this story. The details, even the tiniest of them, look so real, it would almost trick the eye, if not for the coloring of his skin. He crawls through the sand, waves licking his ankles as he escapes. He pulls himself into a cavern near the waterline on the beach, escaping the intense sun beating down on his pale, blue skin, cast bluer from the cold waters of the last song.

The cavern walls glow dull orange as he stares up at them. Shadows dance around the cave, like a trick of the mind, making shapes of creatures and men. The color makes him uneasy, only reminding him of all the faces pressed against the enclosure he abandoned. He needs more than this.

“Staring at these empty walls // I know why the caveman draws // Fill this space with color ‘cause // It could mute echos of what was.”

The shadows form cave drawings, basic stick figures that dance. Two figures run toward each other, circling a few times. When they finally collide, color bursts forthfrom their touch, spilling onto the walls around the blue man, witnessing.

His dazed eyes watch in wonder as his surroundings brighten. They flutter shut, exhausted from his epic quest. His body sags into the sand, sleep catching up to the blue man, as a red shadow is cast over his face.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

TRACK FIVE : WET WINGS (INTERLUDE)

A bird sits in a tree. It’s feathers are deep black and shiny, glittering in the sunlight. It skips around its nest, perfecting every little twig and fluff so diligently. It caws, on beat to the instrumental track, to keep other birds away. The other birds swoop around, but are intimidated by the large, black bird protecting his perfected territory and leave him be.

But a blue bird lands on the far side of the black bird’s branch, nearly crashing into it gracelessly. It’s a little smaller, and it’s feathers are wet. The black bird doesn’t shoo it away. If anything, the black bird is interested; the other birds never bother to actually land on his branch. He jumps between his nest and the blue bird, watching hesitantly.

The blue bird shakes out his wings, water droplets splashing onto the black bird. The long, black wings shake out, and the blue bird catches a glimpse of red, just a little flash on the underside of the black bird. They study each other as the blue bird shakes the droplets from his wings.

Suddenly, the black bird opens his large wings and flies off quickly, leaving the blue bird and his nest behind. The blue bird watches him fly away, then continues to shake out his feathers. He stays in the sunny spot of the branch, trying to dry out his wings enough to leave this gorgeous black bird alone.

But the black bird returns before the blue bird is in good enough condition to fly off. Staring straight at the blue, the black puts a twig he’s collected into the nest. There’s berries dangling from the twig, enough for both birds to share. The black jumps backwards and ducks his head, offering the first berry to the blue.

Hesitantly, the blue skitters towards the nest. He takes one berry from the twig, then jumps away, afraid that the big, black bird might change his mind. He doesn’t, though, taking a small jump towards the nest. He takes a berry for himself. They eat their berries at the same time.

Black wings flutter, and the blue bird can see the red feathers hidden under his wings and below his belly. They meet on either side of the nest, and each take another berry.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

TRACK SIX : GREASE

The birds fly off together, swooping in front of a diner. It has neon lights buzzing and cars from the fifties in the lot. The music that the scene accompanies certainly sounds retro. The colors are vibrant, and the corners of all the shots are hazy. Every stroke of animation is more abstract than all of the previous scenes.

The frame goes inside the diner, where it looks like a scene from everyone’s favorite teen romance set in the 1950’s, but if it were an acid trip. The checkered floor is multicolored, and the decorations on the walls are vibrant. Boys in leather jackets with their hair slicked back, and girls in poofy, pink poodle skirts and matching ascots around their necks adorn the scene. They all bob along to the beat of the song.

The man in blue, all cleaned up from his long journey, saunters into the diner. Everyone turns to look as he walks in. The boys in black leather, hanging around the jukebox, especially take notice. In return, Blue takes notice of the tall man standing at the center of the group, clearly in charge of his little greaser gang. Blue nods at the leader in the center, and after only a moment of hesitation, the leader nods back. Blue sits by himself at a booth, wanting to rest. His eyes flutter closed and his body lets his tension bleed out.

The leader joins him at his table. When he sits, the music picks up a modern beat. There’s a slight tension between the two men. At first, it seems aggressive, but they both start to smile, and the tension melts into something far more flirtatious.

“I was all sandy from my trip // The sun blistered my nose, shoulders and lips // You brushed it all away with your fingertips // I know that Zuko never stares like this.”

When the song finds its upbeat chorus, the others in the diner burst into a dance routine that Blue and the leader don’t join in. Instead, they share laughs and smiles and a milkshake on the table between them. The leader, with the hard lines of his face and his tall hair and leather jacket, has no business looking so sweetly at Blue. Anyone looking at him can tell that Blue is already in love.

They talk beside the juke, other couples around them, on the tables around them, or dancing in the far background. Even a few quick moments of Blue and the leader dancing together flit by. They throw French fries at each other, and laugh with their heads thrown back. They get lost in each other, until they’re the only two left in the diner.

“You dropped in a quarter to pay for the juke // We danced ‘til we laughed, and laughed ‘til we puked // You whispered to me that you’re easy to spook // But your shake has two straws, this is more than a fluke.”

As the song comes to an end, their lips are a breath apart, and the scene abruptly changes.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

TRACK SEVEN : SPARE CLOTHES

Blue wakes up in the cavern. A fire crackles beside him. His eyes rake over the walls, the shadows no longer dancing the way they had before. He turns his head and sees a dark figure near him, tending to the fire. He tries to push himself up, but the figure reaches out a hand to ease him back down.

The figure leans away, and Blue is too weak to try and get away. Part of him wants to keep running, to keep going. But the shadowed hand has returned with a cup of water. It’s a kind act Blue hadn’t expected from a shrouded, dark figure.

Slowly, Blue sits up and takes the water, drinking the whole cup quickly. He wipes the excess drips off of his slate gray face. When he turns his eyes back to the figure, he can see him a little more clearly against the firelight.

The figure is a man in all black, though when he moves, a red iridescence shines through. He has a thick, defined brow and sharp cheekbones, and eyes deeper and darker than this cavern.

Blue thanks him. Black gives a small, slight smile, then goes back to tending the fire.

“Do you have something extra I can wear? // People always tell me I seem sorta square. // I’m looking for something that will make me as rare // As the smiles you give when you catch me stare.”

Black cares for Blue as he struggles to regain his strength. They tend to each other, inching closer and closer together like the cavern walls are closing in on them. They share meals and quiet secrets that burn in the fire. Eventually, Blue finds himself wrapped up in a black cloak, warming the icy tones in his steel blue skin.

When he’s finally ready, Blue is lead by the hand to mouth of the cavern. He’s gotten used to the shadows, and the bright light of the sun seems overwhelming. But with Black’s hand in his, he can take the step into the world safely. Together, they walk out into the white light of the world.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

TRACK EIGHT : UNREAL

When the flash of light fades, Blue sits in the audience of a massive three-ring circus. The tent is striped with black and red, and the ceiling has a massive, intricate lighting rig. All around Blue are faceless orange patrons, watching in awe.

At the center of it all, the ringleader in all black orchestrates a great show. He commands the audience, waving his hands wildly and tipping his tall top hat to the man in Blue who watches on. He announces the tightrope walker, and then, there he is, fifty feet in the air, balancing perfectly. He is effortless on the line, no safety net needed. Down below, the clowns pull up in the tiny car, honking as they arrive, and get out of it in a line, one after another. Silly dramatic creatures in black and white pour out of the beat up vehicle, each more grandiose than the last. Finally, when the last one gets out, the ringleader emerges from the driver’s seat and takes a deep bow.

Out from the sideline prowls a great cat, spotted in blue. It’s a huge beast, stalking dangerously towards the beloved ringleader. A tense freeze falls upon the audience.

“Sometimes I wonder if I made you up // A last ditch effort to fill the happy cup // One last wild dream before I self-destruct // But someone like you couldn’t be constructed.”

The ringleader and the wildcat circle each other slowly, making three whole rotations around the ring, drawing closer and closer to the center. The ringleader bows to the predator with great respect, and the beast bows right back. With the ringleader’s instruction and encouragement, the cat performs incredible tricks, jumping through hoops of fire, and climbing up a massive wall and landing gracefully, right at the ringleader’s feet.

They bow to each other once more, and then, together, they bow for the audience. The ringleader looks up to the man in blue in the audience and winks.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

TRACK NINE : HARD AND SOFTER

A huge, steep mountain covered in thick, blinding snow looms, taking over the entire shot. On the side of the peak is one tiny speck of blue within the stretch of white. Blue scales up the side towering mountain, gripping tiny, snow-covered crevices to hoist him upwards. His breath puffs out in front of him as he struggles to reach the top.

He pulls himself onto a ledge, with a door in the mountain wall. He rolls onto it and takes a moment to catch his breath. He’s stronger now than he was before. He only needs a moment before he’s up again, reaching for the door.

It’s a huge wooden door, with an ornate carving of a rose on it. It towers over Blue, almost twice his size. He uses all the strength he can muster to open the door. Once it cracks open, the music starts.

Inside is a bright white room, with big windows showing a range of whimsical, rectangular mountains. A man in black, with tall hair and sharp features, paces around the room, anxiety oozing off of him.

“I made it to the top of this rock // I marched on for so many years // You must be my prize, but you say that you’re not // All I see is something revered.”

Blue takes Black’s hands and makes him stop. They hold each other’s stare for a long moment. Blue has the pleasure of watching the tension melt from Black’s features. All Blue wants is this, to be with Black, to ease his worry.

Blue pulls Black away from his pacing. They curl up together on the couch, all worries melting away.

“You linger on, all day long // About your hard edges being too refined // But those wicked words are all too wrong // You’re hard like diamonds, and softer as you shine.”

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

TRACK TEN : BREATHING EASY

The animation this time is the most realistic, with lines in every place they should be. Blue isn’t blue anymore, but a soft pink color, with Black beside him, a shade or two more tan. They rest together, the frame picking up where the last one left off, melting the art styles together. The mountains behind them are skyscrapers. The apartment they’re in is David’s, recognizable from its many featured appearances in his social media and reality show.

They’re so close, curled so tightly around the other, their noses brushing very softly. Black’s stubbled lips caress Blue’s chin every so often. Blue looks much happier than the man watching the cat behind the viewing glass.

“Let’s lie in bed and rest // Stall the days that we have left // And watch the sun and share a breath. // You know who I think says it simply the best.”

Blue mouths the words softly, his mouth barely moving, like he’s whispering the words to Black. Without opening his eyes, Black smiles and leans further into Blue, somehow. His arm wraps more completely around Blue, holding him protectively. They’re practically fused together. Black adjusts his position and brushes a kiss to Blue’s lips.

Black pulls away slowly, but only because Blue is floating. He hovers in the air, his eyes closed in bliss. The faintest smile graces his face, floating further and further into the air, propelled by his happiest thoughts. He rises as the music builds, the skillful playing of guitar serenading his rise.

When the build up breaks, Blue slips back down, and he’s landing in bed. Black is wrapped around him, breathing slow and even against Blue’s shoulder. Blue’s eyes open, and he looks at the man in his arms before kissing his forehead very softly.

“It’s easy to lie here in sheets so blue // To whisper so softly that my love is true // To take a deep breath and shout it out, too. // Breathing’s been easier since I met you.”

Blue brings Black’s hand up to his lips and kisses it, just as softly, looking over Black’s face. He smiles to himself, then lets his eyes fall closed, and the scene fades to black.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

BONUS TRACK : DAVID’S SONG

No longer animated, Patrick sits in David’s apartment, on his ridiculously huge couch, his guitar in hand. He plays an upbeat tune with a quirky chord progression, smiling to himself as he navigates the frets. 

“You looked at me with your teeth full of green // You stared for a second, then said something mean,” Patrick sings, still smiling. “I didn’t know a mouth could be so obscene. // But that was the first time I’d laughed in weeks.”

Intermixed with the shots of Patrick singing are clips of David and Patrick that haven’t been released. The first Patrick arriving at the gallery, handing David a macchiato, shot from David’s phone. He ducks out of frame with a smile to press a kiss to David’s lips. Another was filmed by Stevie, of Patrick pointing at a baseball field in the middle of a game, animatedly telling David about what was happening, and David actively listening. There are shots of Patrick with the Rose family, and David with the Brewers. Even quiet moments Patrick recorded that David didn’t know about are cut into the song. Little moments of their life together are interspersed throughout the song, chronicling their love story.

“This ode kept coming out unclean // Each try felt like writing shrieks // I asked you for help and you said ‘submarine’. // Who would write about a submarine? // Well, you would have been great in that vast deep // A shining beacon during my storms at sea. // But now I know you’re late for every scene // And I am as patient as you are extreme.”

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 


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